


Sleep Talk

by DorkMagician



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types
Genre: Deal, Ghost Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, PWP, okay but pwp with plot, we all know Kaiba's a bottom but he's topping tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 06:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18244445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DorkMagician/pseuds/DorkMagician
Summary: Seto Kaiba has always been a light sleeper. After breaking up the ceremonial duel and taking the millennium puzzle, he finds his sleep disturbed more and more often. Lately he's been waking in the middle of the night to find Atem sleeping beside him. Not that he minds. In fact, he'd prefer waking up each morning if the pharaoh didn't always retreat into the puzzle before he opened his eyes again. He decides to make things easier for Atem by letting him know just where he stands on the pharaoh sharing his bed.





	Sleep Talk

It wasn’t the first time Seto had caught him. He was a light sleeper; he caught even the quietest noises and movements in the empty night. And now, it seems, after months of wearing the puzzle, he caught noises and movements that were not truly there at all. Atem could not rustle the sheets with his touch. He did not breathe, and any breath could certainly not tickle his ear. And yet it did. Twice already, Seto had awoken in the middle of the night to find Atem had slipped silently from his puzzle to lay beside him in bed, sleeping soundly. Seto knew he was doing it purposefully, secretly, as he always disappeared before he woke again in the morning, never speaking or hinting about what had passed in the night.

At first, Seto thought it was simply that Atem wanted the opportunity to sleep in a bed again. After five-thousand years of being insubstantial, it made perfect sense to miss such little things. Yugi was a generous host, but he did not switch places with Atem recreationally as often as he thought Atem might have liked. And Atem would never impose upon his time. But Seto was not Yugi. He was selfish, and he was one to allow selfishness.

That was why he’d stopped the ceremonial duel. It was unfair to all involved. It was unfair to Yugi that he would lose one of his best friends—the other heart in his heart. It was unfair to Teá, who had yet to understand her own feelings toward the pharaoh and his host. It was unfair to Seto to lose his rival the moment he learned his true, separate identity. To ask him to finally believe in something and to take it away was unforgivable. But it was mostly unfair to ask Atem to give up a life he’d fought so hard for, to give up the world he had saved so many times. But Atem could never allow himself to be so selfish as to stay. So Seto was selfish for him.

Seto had leapt up to the shrine of the millennium items, snatched up the puzzle, and stopped the ceremony from taking place. There was no solid reason anyone could give him as to why Atem had to leave. Excuses of, “It’s what’s right,” or, “It’s destiny,” fell short. He would not listen to anyone who said he had to “go home” when his home was in the living world.

“You’re asking him if he’s willing to give up his life here, but none of you are asking if that’s what he _wants.”_

Atem protested. “Whatever I want, I can’t simply stay. This life isn’t mine to live. I can’t ask to share Yugi’s time indefinitely.”

“Then share _mine_ ,” Seto snapped.

The room fell silent. The only sound was the flutter of a card as it slipped through Yugi’s fingers.

“Kaiba … ”

Seto stood before the pharaoh. Moments before Seto had taken the puzzle, he’d been solid. Now he wavered like smoke, slowly fading into something more ghostly.

“I never said I was finished with you yet. You can’t just decide to leave on your own. I’m not about to let you walk out on me—not when I now know who you are. Not when I know who I really need to fight to regain my pride as a duellist.”

“But Kaiba—!”

“But nothing,” Seto interjected. “If Yugi won’t wear the puzzle, I will. I may not be as quick to believe in all this Egyptian hocus pocus as the rest of these simple-minded children, but I’ve seen enough evidence over these last years, particularly in this hour, to convince me that there are forces at work. I’m offering you time, pharaoh. And I’m not phrasing it as a question.”

Seto muscled his way past the Ishtars, ignoring whatever speeches they had prepared about destiny or teachings of the pharaoh's tomb. “Bury the other items if you want. Seal off the tomb. Bury this place into bedrock and rubble so that nothing else ever comes out again.” He raised the puzzle in his hand, looking over his shoulder as he exited the tomb. “But this stays with me.”

And Seto had kept his promise, long after he stormed out on the duel. He ignored the calls and texts he received from Yugi and his friends. For weeks afterwards they did their best to convince him to return the puzzle to the shrine and continue the ceremony, but their pleas fell on deaf ears. The Ishtars had shown up on his door, practically demanding him to take action, but he sent them away every time. Eventually they all came to understand he meant business, and the calls and visits became more infrequent, until at last, Yugi merely requested Atem return to life as before, offering to wear the puzzle. He admitted to feeling incomplete after a particularly long conversation. But Seto wouldn’t grant his wish.

“You were willing to give him up to the afterlife. Now you’ve got to accept that you’ve given him up to me.”

And so it was that Seto kept the puzzle and Atem. He allowed his friends to visit as often as they liked and he willingly let Yugi wear the puzzle within his grounds, but when the visits were done, the puzzle and Atem were always to be returned to his hands personally. He bought Atem a phone and allowed him to send messages, switching out a few hours each day to let him explore the world freely. It was strange for Atem at first, being able to do as he liked with no certain goals. Meanwhile, Seto caught up on his sleep in the puzzle. He had an interesting time exploring his own soul room and investigating Atem’s. Each of them had much to experience.

Once while Seto worked at his desk, Atem sitting on the floor beside him, lounging, Atem admitted to his previous anxieties about the ceremony and the prospect of leaving.

“I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to everyone just yet. I didn’t want to let go. But for so long, I’d always done what was expected of me and I’d forgotten how to desire something for myself.”

Seto grinned, flipping a page over in his file. “You always react the same to being put on the spot: you do the right thing, whatever someone tells you that is. That’s the difference between us. I always do what I want and I never let anyone else tell me what that is.”

It had been a month since the ceremony. Atem had already adjusted well to the rhythm of the Kaiba household. He turned over to appraise Seto thoughtfully. “Not that I wish to tell you what you want, but didn’t you want a duel? That was the reason you stole my puzzle away in the first place, was it not? And yet you’ve made no time to challenge me.”

“I’m the president of a major international corporation,” Seto grunted. “I can’t just make time to duel you whenever I feel like it. Don’t expect me to accommodate for you just because you’re here.”

Atem leaned back again and stared at the ceiling. “I see … ” was all he replied.

But he could make time to give Atem his own free time. He would wear the puzzle to sit in silence together, even though the pendant was heavy and the chain felt out of place around his neck. He wouldn’t simply put the puzzle on some shelf until he found the time to duel, no matter how often the corner of the puzzle poked his abdomen. Even when Atem’s hovering at his shoulder got on his nerves, he continued to wear it. He continued to let Atem linger. And Atem grew quite comfortable lingering at his side.

Perhaps that was why Seto didn’t find it at all unusual when he woke to find Atem laying beside him that first night. He was always at his elbow or sitting against his back. They were side by side constantly but for the moments when Seto entered the puzzle or they went to sleep. Their breaks apart were always brief and there was hardly a moment they were not together. It felt natural that Atem appeared beside him.

So Seto simply closed his eyes and went back to sleep. They did not speak of it in the morning. The second night came a week later. Now instead of being on the opposite side of the expansive bed, Atem had moved closer to the middle. Night by night, intermittently over the months, Atem had come closer, until they slept nearly nose to nose. And Seto allowed it.

Now, he almost felt Atem’s breath against his face. He almost heard the shuffle as Atem stirred in his sleep. Seto closed his eyes, feeling Atem wake in the early morning. He’d been staring for some time now, taking in his gentle expression. Feigning sleep was easy for him. He’d had plenty of practice, always awoken by Atem’s waking stirring, and he would not do him the injustice of being caught off guard. Atem had yet to ask to stay beside him and Seto knew he had yet to learn to ask for what he wanted. So, he let him have this privately. He would close his eyes and let sleep return while Atem slipped quietly away into the puzzle, ready to greet him when the day began. But this time was different. This time, he knew it was more than simply wanting to sleep in a comfortable bed. It was more than seeking refuge from the darkness of the puzzle. It was more than the loneliness of night and unrest. When he felt the ghost of Atem’s lips hover against his, intangible, he knew the truth.

That day, he often found himself bringing a hand to his lips. There had been nothing to feel anymore substantial than a whisp of memory. Most of the sensations he felt were half imagined: mere suggestions of the real thing. But it was enough to set him on edge. Whenever he brushed past Atem, though he could not feel him, he felt a shiver. Getting up for dinner, he offered Atem a hand to help him stand. Atem took it, but there was no sensation between them. There was not even cold where their hands met. And yet, Seto found himself flexing his hand involuntarily at the memory.

The next night, he felt the stirring again. He kept his eyes shut but the slightest bit. Through the veil of his lashes, he watched Atem evaluating him. The pharaoh was leaning just above him on one arm, staring. In his tired haze, he almost felt the gentle wind-soft caress of a soft hand over his fringe, over his cheek, down to the edge of his jaw and neck. Then there was the whisper of a kiss against his eyes. Something fluttered in his stomach and he felt his face twitch. In an instant, the faint presence was gone, and when Seto opened his eyes, so was Atem.

He knew he ought to confront Atem about these strange nightly excursions, but he never did. He justified this with the most fragile of excuses: it would be such a awkward conversation; he would rather not embarrass them both by acknowledging it; since the contact between them was insubstantial as it was, there was nothing truly happening, and therefore nothing to be addressed. But the truth of the matter was, he didn’t want to scare Atem away. He didn’t want him to stop. It was the same reason he never found the time to duel. He wanted him to stay.

But Seto wanted to know just what it was Atem truly wanted. How much of Seto did he want? Was it only the experience, or was it _him?_ So he decided to test things. He worked slowly, subtly, to earn his answer. He would not do anything to give himself away.

When night fell on the first day of his experiment, he had a plan. When he was awoken in the night, when his dreams mingled with the waking world and he could feel the barest touch, he found Atem running the pads of his fingers against his lips once more. He wanted to lay there and allow himself to be absorbed in the feeling, but not this night. Instead, as if moving in his sleep, he smiled. He felt Atem’s fingers flinch away in startled fright, but when enough time passed, they returned again, caressing as before. Feeling bold, Seto kissed them once. He smiled to himself when the pharaoh retreated for the night directly afterwards, frightened away by the prospect of being caught. Then, he went back to sleep, dreaming up pleasant schemes.

Throughout the day, Seto saw that Atem was watching him. He smiled secretively when he noticed how often Atem tapped a finger to his lips. He wouldn’t do anything so obvious again tonight, but had decided instead to lay the groundwork for something much greater. He was much too excited to wait for night.

He stretched and stood away from his work desk. He did not even need to fake a yawn, truly tired from staring at his screen all day. Atem looked up from the movie playing on his phone, stirred by the sudden movement. It wasn’t Seto’s habit to finish work so early.

Atem floated over. “Are you done already?” he asked, peeking over a number of meaningless papers.

“No, but I’m tired of looking at all this. The screen makes my eyes feel dry after a while.”

Seto strode over to the couch and flopped himself down, facing the back. He tucked one arm under his head and used a throw blanket for a pillow. He snuggled down and closed his eyes, sighing comfortably.

Atem followed him. “You’re going to _nap?”_ he said, incredulous.

“Of course. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It’s just that … don’t you usually nap in the puzzle?”

Seto cracked an eye open. “It isn’t time to switch yet. Why? Would you prefer if I tagged out?”

“Not at all,” Atem said. He sat on the other end of the couch. “I just thought this was the sort of thing you’d consider a waste of time. There’s nothing productive to do in the puzzle—that’s why I figure you always seemed to nap there. Napping out here when there are other things to do seems like something you’d frown upon.”

Seto closed his eye and stretched himself leisurely. “Maybe. But there’s no law saying I have to be productive all the time. If you need me to put another movie on your phone, just wake me up. I’ll only sleep for half an hour or so. We’ll switch in time for lunch. Mokuba wants to introduce you to mac and cheese today.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll wake you up just before one o’clock then.”

“You do that,” Seto mumbled.

In a few minutes, he felt Atem leave the couch and return to his spot on the floor to finish his movie. Mokuba had assigned him a list of good movies to watch. During midday when they switched places, Mokuba would play games with Atem. The two had every hour planned, it seemed. Occasionally, Seto would pop out to watch. For the most part, he preferred to stay in the puzzle when it was Atem’s turn to be out and about. Floating and being insubstantial made Seto uneasy. At least in the puzzle everything felt physical.

When enough time had passed that he was sure Atem would think he was asleep, Seto put his plan into action. He began to make small noises: bits of broken dialogue and mumblings. He didn’t know if he ever spoke in his sleep, but he needed to develop a convincing habit for his plan to work. So after a few scattered sounds, he quieted down again and played out the rest of his nap silently until Atem came to wake him.

“Kaiba?” Atem said. He knelt before the couch, close to his ear. “Kaiba. It’s time to get up.”

Seto grumbled and hugged the blanket tighter, pretending to be half asleep. He couldn’t just suddenly wake up from a deep sleep.

“Honestly. If you’re going to be this much trouble, you ought to set an alarm,” Atem complained. He tried shaking his shoulder—a fruitless effort. He shouted instead. “Kaiba! It’s time!"

Finally, Seto opened his eyes. He yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes, making a show of how tired he was. “That couldn’t have been half an hour,” he said.

“It wasn’t. It was a bit over forty minutes.”

“Let’s switch while I’m still tired. I can continue this in the puzzle.” He yawned again, covering his mouth with one hand.

Atem looked at him, concerned. “You sound like you could use a rest. Why are you so tired today?”

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Seto said. “Had a restless dream.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Seto looked at him. “Not particularly.”

“I might be able to help. Whenever Yugi had troublesome dreams, we would talk about them, and they usually went away.” Atem smiled his most winning smile.

“I’d rather keep this one to myself, thank you.”

Atem’s smile faded. “Why?” he asked.

Seto noticed the way Atem’s hands balled up on his knees. He saw the nervous twitch of his eyebrow. Was Atem worried about the kiss? About who he might’ve dreamed of kissing? He smirked. “You and I may share a body, but our minds are our own. Besides, it wasn’t a troubling dream. Just a tiring one.” He winked, and before Atem could react, Seto was in the puzzle. He whistled to himself, listening to the sound echo in the dividing hall as he made his way to his soul room. He flopped himself down on an identical couch and rested with his head in his arms. This was going to be fun.

 

“You’ve been talking in your sleep lately,” Atem said.

It was just over two weeks since Seto started his experiment. He raised an inquisitive brow theatrically. “Oh?”

Atem sat on the edge of the bed while Seto brushed his teeth. “And you’ve been napping a lot more than usual. Is something troubling you? Are you not getting enough sleep?”

Seto spat and rinsed. “I’ve been getting plenty of sleep.”

“I’ve noticed you’re also moving around a lot: rolling over, tossing and turning; you’ve even flung out an arm a couple times. You keep jostling the puzzle. Are you dreaming well?”

“No nightmares, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Seto stepped out of the bathroom and turned off the lights. He crawled into bed and set his alarm. Finally, he turned off his bedside lamp and closed his eyes. Atem sat on the other side, not disappearing into the puzzle. Seto could feel the weight of his stare. He opened his eyes again.

“What?”

“Tell me,” Atem demanded.

Seto closed his eyes. “No.”

“Kaiba, please. If there’s something troubling you, maybe I—”

“Good _night,_ pharaoh,” Seto said firmly. “I’m not discussing my dreams with you.”

“But—!”

“Some things are meant to be _private.”_

Atem sighed. “You’re a piece of work, Kaiba.”

Seto chuckled and hugged his pillow. “Go to sleep. You can chastise me more in the morning.”

Seto had adjusted well to his new, unusual sleep cycle. He woke up almost every four hours exactly. Now was the moment he was preparing for. When he woke up this time, he made different sounds from the ones before. Before he had borrowed pieces of conversation from work: his secretary’s evening report, details from a meeting on that day, idle chatter he picked up from his employees in passing. But this time he had something far more interesting planned. He began by stirring under the sheets and breathing deeper. Then, as if he were running, he began to pant. The noise disturbed Atem and he emerged from the puzzle.

“No nightmares indeed,” Atem grumbled, glaring down at him. “You sound like you’re being chased. That’s the second chase dream in the last three nights.”

Kaiba’s hand moved to the chain of the puzzle and he gripped it tight. Small noises escaped his throat. He flung his head back into his pillow and writhed. He gave a few short, broken cries.

Atem leaned over him, a worried expression on his face. “Kaiba? Kaiba, are you okay?”

It took a great deal of willpower not to peek and give himself away. Seto shut his eyes tighter and grunted, pretending to shiver. Then, he gave a strangled moan and said, “Atem … ” as he settled to lay still again, panting.

Atem’s eyes went wide. It was the first time Seto had ever spoken his name. And in such a voice! He openly gaped, unable to contain his shock. What kind of dream had Seto just had! He leaned over him, closer. “Kaiba?” he whispered experimentally.

Seto hummed and reached a hand out to stroke Atem’s cheek. He could almost feel it. _“Seto,”_ he corrected.

He was sure he felt Atem tremble beneath his fingers.

“I—! What are you—!” Atem faltered.

Seto pulled him closer, parting his lips. “Tease,” he mumbled. He let Atem come the rest of the way, felt the half-real touch of his kiss. He sighed. It would be much easier now. If this was something Atem wanted to pursue, he could approach it without fear. He had Seto’s answer.

In a moment, Atem had slipped from his fingers. His presence was gone and Seto knew he had slipped away into the puzzle. He sighed and relaxed into his pillow. Tomorrow would yield his results. Just in time, too. He was growing impatient.

 

Seto sat across from Mokuba at the breakfast table. Usually, Mokuba’s face was the only one that greeted him from that side, but today Atem was not sitting at his right. Atem was sitting beside Mokuba instead, staring back at Seto. He’d been following him around all morning, floating silently behind him or at his shoulder.

“Would you at least _glance_ my way now and then when I’m talking?”

Seto turned to look at Mokuba, not realizing he’d been staring as well. “Sorry.”

“What’s with you two today? Did you have a fight?”

“No,” Seto replied.

Mokuba looked doubtful at the empty air beside him. “I don’t need to see Yami to know you two are having some kind of stand-off; you keep staring into space. You only ever do that at your computer or when you’re talking to Yami.”

“We aren’t talking.”

“So you _did_ have a fight,” Mokuba insisted, putting down his fork.

“I didn’t mean it like that. We just haven’t spoken yet this morning.”

“Well get on with it already. I can feel him sitting there looking at you and it’s kinda creepy.”

Seto and Atem both looked at Mokuba.

“You can _feel_ him?” Seto asked.

“Well yeah.” Mokuba shifted his chair away slightly. “It’s like when you know a person is standing behind you or looking at you from the other side of the room. It’s that weird feeling. Only I know he’s not looking at me. And tell him to relax a little. The air feels all stiff.”

Atem uncrossed his arms immediately and relaxed his face. “How can he tell?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more of your magic hocus pocus.”

Mokuba sighed. “Finally. Though you should really start with ‘good morning’ or ‘are you hungry’ instead.”

Seto cracked a smile. What a cheeky kid. He looked back at Atem and held up his half-eaten plate. Today their chef had made them American pancakes with smoked apple sausage. “What do you say, pharaoh? Want to finish my plate?”

Mokuba picked up his glass of milk and mumbled into it, trying to hide a smirk. “Still counts as an indirect kiss, you know.”

“I caught that, kid,” Seto said, digging into his hair with his free hand. “It’s still my body when we switch out—I’m swapping my own spit. It’d be like kissing myself.”

Seto watched Atem’s face twitch up and a faint pink spread across his face. After all this time spent together, he still couldn’t figure out how a ghost without a body or blood could blush, but he was often too caught up in watching it happen to remember to observe it objectively.

Seto swept the plate slowly under his nose back and forth, grinning. “Final offer. Remember, we don’t switch out until lunchtime, and I’ve got a lot of work to do between now and then. It might be a late lunch.” Before he could get another word in, Seto found himself sitting beside Mokuba, staring back at his own disgruntled face.

Atem snatched the plate back and picked up Seto’s fork showily before cutting himself a bite of sausage and pancake. He bit down theatrically and closed his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “There, happy?”

Mokuba snorted. “You always look so weird when he takes over,” he said, nudging the empty chair with his elbow.

Seto chuckled. “Well, he’s a weird guy.”

Atem cracked an eye open. “You’re one to talk,” he replied, mouth full.

“Shut up and eat my sausage,” Seto snapped.

Atem choked.

 

Atem spent a lot of time after breakfast in the puzzle. Seto noticed this when he dropped Mokuba off at school. Usually Atem would be out to wave goodbye and wish him luck, but not this time. Mokuba seemed to notice it too. He said Seto wasn’t as enthusiastic as usual. There were two parts to every drop off: Seto would tell Mokuba to study hard, then Atem would switch long enough to wish him luck. At first, Seto was annoyed at Atem for taking over outside of his time without any sort of warning, but over time, the act had endeared him to the pharaoh. Atem liked Mokuba enough to ignore Seto, just to wish him well. But Mokuba had already passed through the school gate and Atem had not stirred from the puzzle.

Seto felt all around the chain, wondering if maybe it had come loose. If a link had broken, maybe the puzzle had fallen off. But no, the chain was intact. When the car pulled away enroute to the office, he held the puzzle to his ear and listened, then, feeling foolish, he let it dangle again. It wasn’t like listening through a door. Knocking on it would be even sillier.

“Hey, pharaoh,” he called.

No answer.

He lifted the puzzle up to eye level and gave it a bit of a bounce in the air. “Don’t ignore me. What are you doing in there?”

Atem’s disembodied voice drifted through his head, sounding mildly annoyed. “What do you want?”

“You didn’t tell Mokuba goodbye.”

“I did, too.”

Seto scoffed incredulously. “No, you didn’t. You would’ve tapped in. Or if you didn’t I would have at least seen you—or heard you.”

Atem appeared on the seat beside him, rubbing at his eyes. “I _did_ tap in. You told him to stay with the group and I told him to splash Joey for the both of us.”

“Splash? Where do you think Mokuba went just now?”

Atem yawned and stretched. “The water park?”

Seto blinked. Then, he laughed as he said, “Were you napping just now?”

Atem looked around the car, waking up. He turned to look out the window and saw the familiar streets passing them by. “Oh,” he said. “I must’ve been dreaming.”

“You don’t usually sleep in the middle of the day, especially not so soon after breakfast. Didn’t you sleep well last night?”

Atem glanced back at him, looking out the window once more. There was that impossible ghost pink again. “You woke me up this time. You’ve been making a lot of racket recently in your sleep. You started talking a while ago, saying things.”

“What kind of things?”

Atem stiffened, his fingers on the window.

“Things.”

Seto grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well if you won’t tell me, I’ll just find out for myself.”

“What, will you have your phone record you all night?” Atem asked.

“No,” Seto said. “I’ll check the mansion security footage.”

The car was silent

Seto turned his head and caught Atem’s reflection in the window. He was pale as a ghost—a pun which made him groan internally the moment he thought of it. He knew exactly what Atem was thinking about. But he had no reason to be worried. Unless … he thought the other night was a fluke. He frowned inwardly, trying to keep his expression neutral. Had Atem misunderstood him? But it was such an obvious situation. No matter. He was coming to the end of his experimental game. Tonight he’d make sure Atem understood everything clearly. But first, he decided there was one more thing he needed to do before he folded his hand. A little office nap wouldn’t go amiss.

And so it happened that, after staying to work overtime once more, Seto feigned sleeping at his desk. He’d started nodding around ten o’clock. He’d made it all the way to setting his forehead against his desk and bolting upright again, rubbing his face as if to stay awake. Atem came to float beside him and put a hand over his shoulder with worry.

“Kaiba, if you’re tired, you should send for a car. You haven’t been keeping healthy hours.”

But Seto shrugged him off gruffly. “I need to finish drafting these plans before tomorrow. If I can’t do that, going home for dinner would have been an unearned privilege. That was the deal: home for an hour in exchange for the draft.”

“Are you presenting this plan to a committee tomorrow?”

“No, but I need to stay on schedule if I want to keep my weekends free. Besides, I want to give myself a light day tomorrow so I can sleep in.”

Atem shook his head. “What’s the point of giving yourself time to sleep in if you’re going to stay up late? You’d be getting the same amount of sleep as usual.”

Seto smiled as soon as Atem turned away. “There are some things you can only do at night when you won’t be disturbed,” he said. He saw Atem turn his head a fraction back and caught the tip of a pinking ear. “Like focus on your work in peace,” he concluded.

“I still say we should go to bed.”

Seto smirked. “We?”

 _“You,”_ Atem corrected. “Of course, I would be going to bed as well.”

“I’m not stopping you if you want to go to sleep. You don’t have to wait up with me.”

Atem hesitated, then he made a show of approaching the desk and setting a hand on the puzzle. “You’d better be sleeping when I come back out,” he muttered.

 _Oh, I will be,_ Seto thought. He continued to type the final labels into the new plans for Kaibaland’s new summer expansion. The work would take less than five minutes. But Atem didn’t need to know that.

Finally, after “fighting” sleep for an hour, Seto stumbled his way over to his office couch and collapsed, jostling the puzzle until it hung heavily over the side.

Disturbed by the movement, Atem popped out of the puzzle. He looked down at Seto and sighed. “You should just go home,” he said.

Seto mumbled nothing in particular into the cushion, pretending to be too tired to answer.  
Atem squatted down by his head, glaring at his closed eyes. “Mokuba will be upset if we don’t come home tonight. And sleeping in your clothes isn’t good for you.”

“Then swap out and strip me, dumbass,” Seto grumbled.

“Kaiba!”

Seto chuckled and opened his eyes. “I still have work to do. I’m just going to take a short break. I promise we’ll go home as soon as I’m done.”

Atem made a strained face, but he nodded. “Fine. You have an hour.”

“I didn’t tell you to give me a curfew.”

“Too bad. One hour of sleep, one hour of work. Then, finished or not, I’m taking us home.”

Seto paused. He sat up on one elbow to look Atem in the eye. “A threat?”

“Don’t test me.”

Seto grinned and flopped back down. “I don’t know; it might be fun.” He closed his eyes and tucked his head in the crook of his arm. “Well, _your majesty,_ I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Your time starts now. Make the most of it.”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

And like that, Atem was sitting far away at his desk, watching the clock stubbornly ticking away the time.

Perfect.

Seto waited about twenty minutes, keeping a carefully cracked eye on the dark clock on the wall across the way. Then, the curtain rose and it was time to get started.

Gradually, he began to shift. He turned until he was laying on his stomach. Then, he began to breathe deeper, deeper, until all of a sudden his breathing changed and he was taking shallow breaths. His fingers dug into the cushions beside his head. He rose and fell with his breathing. Then, he began to grind into the surface of the couch, groaning quietly.

Atem heard the noise and he looked over the table. “This again … ”

Seto heard the faint pad of footsteps, as if Atem were at the end of some far hall. His movements were always so muted, ghosts themselves. But it was enough to hear that he was approaching the back of the couch. When Atem came close enough, Seto let out a long moan. It wasn’t all pretend. The thought of Atem watching as he writhed helplessly on the couch had him rutting in earnest. His face felt hot as he heard Atem gasp behind him. He hid his face, burying it in the cushions. It only spurred him on further.

Seto thrusted into the couch until he was panting. He tried to say Atem’s name again, to be sure there would be no more mistakes, but he couldn’t manage to get past the initial sound. All he could manage to say was, “A—! A—!” which could easily be mistaken for any other cry. He tried harder even as his mind clouded with the fantasies he’d begun to collect. “At—! Ateh—!”

He tried to slow himself down, tried to remember the purpose of the scene he’d orchestrated. But he hadn’t touched himself as long as Atem had been with him, and even a while before then. The acting had gotten to him, until it was more than just acting, and he found he had trouble restraining himself now. His hips thrust outside of his control and his pent up frustrations took hold of him. He felt a warmth clenching in the pit of his stomach as his thrusts became more erratic and he tried to remember what he’d been trying to say. The tip of his cock was leaking, staining his boxers, and a little voice in the back of his head was telling him he should care. Atem was still standing over him, watching. His secretary could still be on the other side of his door. There were a number of things to be embarrassed about, but he couldn’t remember any of them.

But he remembered what this was all for.

“Atem,” he moaned, giving another good, rolling thrust. And then he felt a hot, wet mess spill up the front of his underwear, sticking to him. He fell limp against the couch, panting hard. His whole body felt relaxed on the soft leather cushions. He hadn’t even had a proper hand around himself. He thought of getting up and cleaning himself off, then remembered he was supposed to be asleep. He wondered briefly if his cum would seep through his layers and stain the couch. Whatever. He could buy a new couch. As his breathing gradually returned to normal, he let himself go, falling into a true sleep.

It was much too soon when he woke up and his mouth felt dry and fuzzy. But his pharaoh had called his name. Seto opened his heavy eyes and groaned, feeling exhausted. “What time is it?” he asked.

Atem was sitting over at the desk again, staring out the large window. “I gave you two hours,” he said. “You’re not working anymore tonight.”

Seto could not help but feel cold at Atem’s empty voice. “Fine,” Seto said. He pulled himself upright, his limbs heavy with sleep. “I’ll call up a car to take us home.” He fumbled with his phone and drowsily collected his things into his briefcase. It was annoyingly heavy and the puzzle was a giant weight around his neck. He ran his fingers under it, feeling the marks on his neck where the chain had pressed into his skin while he slept. He wondered if it would leave a bruise. He shivered, the thought waking him like a shot of espresso. As he walked, he felt his underwear clinging uncomfortably, chafing. Atem walked behind him silently.

When Seto left the office, he was glad to see his secretary had left. He hoped she’d left long before she could hear anything. He’d hate to have to try to explain himself. It wasn’t as if she could have seen Atem come into the office with him, but he knew she’d noticed the millennium puzzle. He hated to imagine what she thought. The puzzle was part of Yugi’s image. He’d avoided reading tabloids in case there were any unfavorable rumors surrounding the relationship between himself and that pipsqueak.

The car was waiting for them when they exited the building. Seto sat stiffly in his seat, Atem beside him. He knew Atem wanted to say something; he hadn’t gone back into the puzzle. He tried to catch his eye in the car window, but Atem was staring straight ahead, unblinking. His expression was starting to make Seto squirm. He crossed and uncrossed his legs twice halfway to the house.

The silent ride left Seto feeling worried. Maybe he’d scared Atem off. So far, Atem had only kissed him, and only just. Maybe this was too much for him. Or maybe it was as he feared: Atem was simply curious. Atem didn’t want him specifically. He felt a twist in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to crack open a window to get some air, but the night was cold. Instead, he waited until the car pulled up to the mansion, then bolted for the door.

The night air was refreshing and he swallowed it deep into his lungs. It felt good against his hot face and it shocked away the tears that threatened to sting in the corners of his eyes. He’d meant it when he had offered to share his life with Atem. Over the months, he’d come to mean it even more. Now he meant it in every possible way.

He kicked off his shoes at the door and hurried up the stairs, trying to outrun Atem. He shut his bedroom door and leaned against it. Once more, he caressed the chain that linked the puzzle to him. What would he do if Atem rejected him now? If he returned the puzzle to Yugi, he’d return to Egypt one way or another. The thought of never seeing Atem again was worse than mere rejection. He tapped the back of his head against the door in a half-hearted bang. He’d fucked up tonight. He’d royally fucked up.

“Kaiba.”

  
Seto opened his eyes, startled. Atem was standing in the room with him, just in front of him. Right. Doors wouldn’t do much good against a ghost, would they.

Atem’s gaze was locked on Seto’s neck. He couldn’t meet his eyes. Atem shifted, looking off to the side, a hand supporting his puzzle. He was searching for something to say. Seto could see it in his face.

“Kaiba, I—”

“Seto.”

Atem’s grip on the puzzle faltered.

Seto forced himself to look away from the less frightening eye of the puzzle. Besides, as long as he had Atem’s eyes on him, he might as well look at them while he could. So he looked him in the eye—in his beautiful garnet eyes, neither truly red nor purple. An unnatural, beguiling color. He would memorize it now, even full of confusion as they were. As long as they were wide open, he could take it all in. He could recreate them in his mind, maybe one day with a gentler expression.

Seto held the chain as he might like to hold Atem, with soft hands. “I want to hear you say it at least once before you say anything else. If that’s all I take from this, I can live with that. But we’ve known each other long enough now and I’ve never asked anything else of you. Call me Seto. Just once. Then I’ll hear what you have to say and not a second sooner.”

Atem shook his head, his grip on the puzzle tightening. “No, Kaiba. I don’t wan—”

“Then I don’t want to hear it!” Seto cried. He tore the chain over his head and raised the puzzle high. Then, without warning, he found himself staring at his own body, arm swiftly brought down and the puzzle clutched protectively close to his chest.

“Would you just listen to me!” Atem shouted in Seto’s voice. He’d forced Seto out.

Seto drifted unsteadily in the air, ghostly arm still raised. He was shocked into obedient silence.

Atem walked past him and sat on the bed, eyes on the floor. “I won’t say it like this,” he said. “You think I’m going to say it and break your heart, just as you’d break my puzzle to protect yours. I live in your heart, Kaiba. I would never do anything to hurt it.”

“You’ve already broken it twice,” Seto said. He heard his voice tremble and he dug his nails into his palm. Damn him.

“It wasn’t the same way and you know it. And before you go and break me, I want to talk with you. I have fears of my own. You may have shared yours unwittingly, but everything’s out in the open now on one side. I know you hate relinquishing the high ground.”

Seto nodded.

Though Atem’s expression was still firm, his voice took a more calming tone. “I’m going to give you back control and you’re going to sit quietly and listen, alright? Let me speak.”

And like that, Seto was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor, waiting. He gripped the puzzle, feeling the solid weight of it grounding him. He nodded to let Atem know he was listening.

Atem took a deep breath.

“For some time now … I’ve been violating you. I’ve slept in your bed beside you, traced the features of your face in secret. I’ve been cowardly and selfish. And I think I’ve begun to influence your dreams in ways you’ve been too embarrassed to speak of.”

Atem bowed his head low, bending deep at the waist. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you. I never should have done the things I did. I put my own desires first before your comfort and I did it all without your knowledge. I even kissed you once, caught up in the fantasy that you were dreaming of me—desiring me. But we want things in our dreams we would never imagine upon waking and I took advantage of that.”

Seto looked up, his face contorted. “No. No, that’s not true at all,” he said. He stood up and approached Atem who kept him at arm’s length.

“Kaiba, please listen to me.”

“No! Listen to _me_. I knew about it all before the kiss,” he said. He watched the clenched muscle in Atem’s jaw slacken. He laughed. “I’ve always been a light sleeper. I noticed you the very first night! I let you stay. I _wanted_ you to stay. And I’ve never talked in my sleep—I faked it.”

“You _what?”_

Seto felt his eyes begin to water and let all his nervousness leave his body through a series of unstoppable, uncontrollable cackles. “I—! I faked it!” he said. “So you would know—! How—! How I felt!” He shook with laughter until he was bundled up on the bed, sobbing and trying to catch his breath. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” he stammered, wiping his eyes. “It’s not funny at all. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Atem looked at him, half in horror, half bemused.

Seto took a few deep breaths until he felt light headed, a few giggles still escaping. “I should be the one apologizing. I put you in an uncomfortable position as well. I was too afraid to speak my mind—just like you—and I wanted to force you to be the one to move first.”

“So you also … ?” Atem stopped himself. He would not put words in Seto’s mouth.

But Seto nodded. “For a long time now. And don’t forget: I was the one who pulled you into that kiss. You owe me.” He stood and crossed the space between them, lifting his arms up to wrap around Atem’s shoulders. So barely there. He could not rest the brunt of his weight against them, but there was the barest force. That alone was enough for him.

Seto pulled Atem back to the bed with him, turning them as they went. He guided Atem until the back of his knees hit the bed, then he pushed him slowly down. “I can’t touch you the way I want,” he began, trailing a finger down Atem’s chest. He stopped on the surface of the puzzle, tracing the etching of the eye. If he touched too hard, his finger simply went through. It was like touching water. His hand encountered the lightest resistance, easily broken through. “God, I wish I could. Half awake, half asleep, you always felt more solid. I wish it could feel that way always.”

Atem swallowed and nodded.

Seto touched his own puzzle and looked Atem in the eye. He spoke in a whisper. “Is this alright? Can I touch you?”

Atem closed his eyes and reached out to take one of Seto’s hands. He brought it to his lips. It felt like waving his hand through cool air. But it was undeniably a kiss. When Atem opened his eyes, they were dark. Seto felt his breath against his hand as Atem whispered, “Please.”

Seto ripped the puzzle over his head. Atem reached out in protest, but Seto put a finger to his lips and hushed him slowly. He winked. “You only disappear if I let go, right?” When Atem nodded once more, Seto pushed him back down. “Good. Then you have nothing to worry about. Just trust me.”

“Why did you take it off?” Atem asked, eyeing the puzzle anxiously.

“I don’t want it hanging down and stabbing through you. I don’t want to think of you as a ghost right now. Not that I ever do, but you understand.”

Atem smiled. “I do.”

Seto sat back, resting his knees on either side of Atem, feet still firmly planted on the ground. He hummed contemplatively. “How well do you take orders, _pharaoh?”_ Seto asked, voice growing deeper the more he spoke.

His tone made Atem shiver. If it wasn’t for that, Atem would have berated him for refusing to say his name. But this … he knew this teasing for what it was. “Depends on the order,” he replied. There was a glimmer of challenge in his eye.

Seto smirked.  “Then put your arms up,” he said.

Atem raised his arms until his hands were on either side of his head, curious.

In his right hand, Seto gathered the chain of the puzzle and slammed it down on the bed, just over Atem’s left wrist. Seto’s other hand rested in the space between Atem’s head and arm. The chain went through Atem’s wrist, but Seto’s hand rested on the chain as if his hand rested on Atem’s arm itself.

Atem gasped. Another thrill ran through him.

“You understand now, don’t you.”

Atem nodded, feeling his heart beat faster.

Seto leaned down to whisper in his ear. “I wonder how you’d look all chained up. A king in chains—it’s quite the enticing image.”

Atem shivered. “Chains would look good on you,” he replied, voice husky. “A powerful man like you, made helpless. I’d love to see it.”

“Another time,” Seto chuckled.

He leaned his body forward and moved his hips slowly until he felt the impossibly subtle friction. What he wouldn’t give to grind him in earnest at that moment. But he saw Atem’s chest rise suddenly and knew it was enough. He continued to grind against Atem, careful to keep the pressure light lest he move through him. Then they’d feel nothing at all.

He breathed hot against Atem’s neck until he shivered. That much was easily done. He couldn’t breathe through him. So Seto let his mouth hang open, breathing warm vapor against Atem’s skin, letting him feel all he could give him. He gasped beside Atem’s ear, then swallowed and gave his command.

“Touch yourself.”

As Seto pulled away, Atem reached a shaky hand between his legs and rubbed his clothed erection. He kept his eyes on Seto. He made a choking noise and he raised his hips to meet his hand. His face was wonderfully flushed.

“Take it off,” Seto demanded. “Or else I will.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“Try my patience.”

Atem raised his hips off the bed and unzipped his fly slowly, teasing. With leisurely pace, he unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from its loops, KC logo flashing in the faint light. He let it drop beside him on the bed. He chuckled. “I’ve always wanted to take off your belt like that. Only a little disappointed that I was wearing it at the time.”

“Then I’ll give you a little show to show my thanks,” Seto said. He stood back, gripping the chain tightly, and copied Atem’s gestures, unbuckling his belt theatrically. When it slipped through the last loop, he folded it in his hand, trailing the bend of it down Atem’s chest, over his hips, and tossing it aside. “Continue,” he purred.

Atem slipped his hands underneath the waistband of his pants and gave them a fierce tug. He looked down at his boxers as if seeing them for the first time. “I don’t know what I expected,” he said, snapping the waistband. “Blue, of course.”

“Of course. Now off with them.”

Atem rubbed a hand over his still-clothed cock, smirking up at him. “You first. Pace for pace, Kaiba.”

“Don’t call me that name again,” Kaiba hissed. He practically tossed his clothes aside.

“Not fair! Your shirt’s too long; it’s blocking the view.”

“Pace for pace, pharaoh,” Seto mocked.

Atem grumbled and stripped himself free of his boxers. His erection stood upright and red. White precum had already begun to leak from the tip.

Seto sat back on his knees, slipping off the bed. He drew in a deep breath, staring. He wanted to run his tongue up the base of it, to taste the salt of his skin. Instead, he settled for the next best thing. Though it felt awkward, he wanted to give Atem the best he could. He opened his mouth wide, engulfing Atem’s cock within his mouth, but he did not close it. He sat there, hovering around it, breathing on it. When Atem twitched up into him, it was a strange sensation. For a moment, he felt a pressure on the back of his throat, then nothing as Atem phased through. But the sound of Atem’s cry rang in his ears.

Seto turned his head up. “You have to stay still or this won’t work,” he said.

Atem’s head was thrown back into the mattress. He groaned, but not in pleasure. “Just shut up and try again.”

Seto snickered, trying to cover it up with his hand. “I’d hold you down if I could. But then, if I _could_ hold you down, I wouldn’t have to in the first place.”

“ _Kaiba_ ,” Atem warned.

“Yes, your _majesty?”_

Atem tried to kick him, but his leg went right through his shoulder, making Seto laugh even harder. Atem tried kicking him again anyway, until Seto picked up his pants and slipped one leg on. Atem froze indignantly. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Seto stepped into his pants and pulled them up all the way. “I warned you once already. Don’t call me that name.” He zipped the fly pointedly.

“We aren’t finished yet,” Atem growled.

Seto leapt forward to tower over him, leaning with his elbows on either side of his torso. He pushed close until they were nose to nose, forcing Atem to look him in the eye.

“You know what I want,” Seto whispered.

Atem could feel the warmth of his words against his cheek.

“Say it, or that’s the end for tonight.”

Atem squinted at him. “You’re just as desperate as I am. You wouldn’t end things here.”

Seto grinned devilishly. “Try me.”

“Earn it.”

Seto observed him carefully and his grin faded. His pupils were blown wider. Then, he was crouching on his knees once more, taking up his post. He licked his lips until they were wet and shiny. He opened his mouth wide, swallowed Atem’s length, and stayed there, breathing hard. Slowly, he bobbed his head up and down, alternating between exposing Atem to hot and cold air.

Atem strained to keep himself flat against the mattress, squeezing his eyes shut. He gripped his puzzle for support, unable to grab the sheets. His knuckles turned white against the gold metal and he hissed. The muscles in his hips twitched, but he restrained himself. Seto pulled away, leaving him feeling cold and wet. He cracked his eyes open and watched as Seto wiped his lips clean of saliva, smiling.

“Help yourself,” Seto said. “And keep pace.”

Atem’s eyes fluttered as he followed Kaiba’s moving hands. Keep pace?

Seto held the puzzle close, spreading the chain delicately over the length or his thigh. Then, taking his right hand, he stroked the length of the chain.

Atem felt a wave of pleasure rush through him, as if he felt Seto’s hand stroke the whole of him. He gave an involuntary whine, much to Seto’s delight. When Seto made to stroke again, Atem’s hand flew to the base of his cock. It took an effort to keep his eyes focused on Seto’s hand. He followed his pace, stroking himself torturously slow. He wanted to pick up the pace, but he wanted to feel Seto’s hand. This way, at least they could pretend.

Seto twisted the end of the chain with a flourish, watching hungrily as Atem copied the motion, twisting his hand toward the tip. Atem’s hand came away, white precum coating the inside. He could see Atem beginning to struggle. He watched the hypnotic rise and fall of his chest as he began breathing faster. Still, he refused to stroke faster.

“Please… ” Atem said. He was finding it harder to keep his eyes open, lost in the beautiful friction as he played with himself. It wasn’t enough.

“Give me what I want.”

Another long, slow stroke.

Atem threw his head back again and hissed. He thrust into his own hand once, bucking up his hips.

“Atem.”

Atem moaned. It sounded wonderful.

“Seto, please,” he panted.

Seto shivered as he heard his name called. "Say it again," he asked breathily.

"Seto."

He closed his eyes, his hand stalling a moment. When he opened them, they were nearly black. He nodded.

“Faster, Atem,” he commanded.

Atem didn’t need to be told twice. He stroked himself quick and hard, making a mess with his cum. His hand felt sticky and cold, but this didn’t slow him for a moment. He thrust up from the mattress, arching his back and moaning as his orgasm built steadily. His breath became further ragged as he worked. He could feel himself becoming light headed. His body was hot from the activity and he sweat until he shivered in the cold air. His hair fell over his face, tickling him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All of a sudden, there was hot breath on his shaking thigh. He looked and saw Seto leaning forwards, watching closely. Consuming Seto’s attention, commanding it this way—it was intoxicating.

Atem gave strangled cry and came over his hand. Thick white cum covered his stomach. He fell back on the bed, his body relaxing quickly. He closed his eyes, letting himself breathe. He heard the sound of metal clinking.

Seto pulled the chain of the puzzle back over his head as he stared down at the body splayed out beneath him. In their hurry, they hadn’t even gotten properly undressed. His own neglected erection pressed against the cold zipper, but he left it alone. There would be time for that later. He was sure this would not be the end of things. He shut out the light to let Atem rest before slipping away to the bathroom to clean up his earlier mess. He’d offer to help Atem with his, but he wasn’t sure how that would work, being intangible. Besides, seeing the composed pharaoh in such a disheveled state filled him with a feral pride. He lay beside him, humming happily, stroking his exposed thighs with a feather light touch.

“Pleasant dreams, my pharaoh,” he whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing explicit content. Here's hoping it satisfies.
> 
> Shout out to marshmallons/setokaibaes for being my wonderful, timely, and enthusiastic beta reader! Check out her work at the following link:
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallons/pseuds/marshmallons
> 
> To find out how to support my work, check out my about page on tumblr:  
> https://dorkmagicianem.tumblr.com/about
> 
> -
> 
> Companion drawing coming soon.
> 
> -
> 
> EDIT: Companion drawing coming NOW:
> 
> https://dorkmagicianem.tumblr.com/post/183754286000/read-my-new-one-shot-sleep-talk-on-ao3-if-you
> 
> Enjoy!


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